Safe Harbor
by xdaisyx
Summary: In 1942, Bella Cullen is left wondering what happened to her husband, Edward, who was stationed at Pearl Harbor. On a trip overseas, will she finally get the answers that the US government keeps secret? Possible adult content in later chapters. ExB
1. Chapter 1

I stared at the building in front me, unsure if I really wanted to go through with what I was here for or not. It was so with its door and several windows.

With a racing heart and sweat - drenched palms, I entered the building.

The Armed Forces Recruitment Offices.

This building held my fate in its proverbial hands.

It had been months since I heard from him. Then _it_ happened.

December 7th 1941 and the Japanese attacks on Pearl Harbor.

He was stationed there, aboard the USS _West Virginia_. No word yet, from him or anyone, regarding him or his whereabouts. Thousands dead. Countless more, like him, unaccounted for.

I spent hours praying for a sign, for a letter, for anything that would give me some peace of mind, but like everything else in my life, I got nothing in return.

This was my last hope.

Unlike the outside, the inside was very typical of what one might expect to find in a recruitment office, or what I assumed what would be typical, for an office of this nature. Offices lined the far back wall, and over to my left was a small waiting area. To my right, and directly across from the waiting area, there was a desk that served as a reception area.

Through out the interior, posters lined the walls, encouraging young, naive men to join a branch of the Forces at the behest of some man in a striped top hat.

_I hate you, Uncle Sam._

"Can I help you, miss?" The man behind the desk asked me, tipping his cap.

" Um, yes. I'm looking for information about...my husband." I choked back the building sob.

" Name?" He answered back, not bothering to pay me any attention. After all, my husband was _just_ a name to him.

"Cullen, Edward," I all but choked out the words.

A few minutes of silence followed, I shifted the weight of my feet. Waiting. Anxious.

"Mrs. Cullen?" He began, "we don't have any news here, yet. I am assuming he's M.I.A. Having been stationed at Pearl?"

His back was to me, and I couldn't tell what he was looking through or if he was even looking at anything. File cabinets opened in closed so fast, I lost count of how many he was attempting to rifle through.

I nodded, "Yes, sir. Is there any way I can find out anything, though?"

He looked at me, his eyes shone with unspoken answers. He knew something, and he wasn't telling me.

"Until a soldier is standing on your door step, I would say there's hope. Have a good day, Mrs. Cullen ." He tipped his head in a gentlemanly gesture in attempts to close the conversation but I wasn't satisfied. How could I be?

"You expect me to be okay with that? Really? What if you were in my shoes and that was _your_ loved one out there? Wouldn't you want some answers? Wouldn't you?" I spoke through clenched teeth.

Anger was seeping out of my pores but I knew better than to let it out…in public , simply because, to show one's emotions in public would be unlady like.

With that, the conversation was over. No direct answers were gained, but I wondered if the man had a point. As long as there wasn't my husband's commanding officer on my doorstep, I could hold out hope? _Right?_

I watched the scenery outside of the back window as Edward's father drove back home . I hadn't said a word, too afraid to possibly jinx whatever good news there may be.

Carlisle and Esme, Edward's wonderful parents, were not privy to the information that the gentleman at the recruitment office told me. They sat in the car, waiting on me, both believing that this was my own battle that I had to fight.

"Bella, dear, you need to come up with something to occupy your time. This can't be good for you, all this worrying." Esme, his mother, spoke up from the front passenger seat.

" I think I should stay close to home. I mean just in case..."

I didn't want to admit to anyone, least of all myself, that the chances of my husband coming home - alive- were getting smaller and smaller.

I wasn't prepared to deal with that. Then again, what wife is?

But , Edward and I had just begun our lives together... And for us to be robbed of the opportunity of having children celebrating anniversaries together, and grandchildren - it just didn't seem fair.

So as long as I held out hope - he might return. Alive. Or even damaged. A damaged Edward was better than no Edward at all.

"Isabella, maybe you could volunteer at the hospital, if not but a couple hours a week?" Carlisle, Edward's father, offered.

Somewhere deep inside of me, I knew that Edward wouldn't want me to sit around the house - waiting. He would want me out there doing something.

Somewhere deeper inside, I had to rationalize this. If I was helping someone, taking care of someone, then maybe somewhere, someone was doing the same for my Edward.

"I could do that, Mr. Cullen. " I agreed.

"Oh please, Isabella, call me Carlisle. We are family."

Even though I was married to their son, I still felt strange addressing both Carlisle Mr. and Mrs. Cullen by their given names. It just didn't seem proper.

"Carlisle, I corrected myself.

Carlisle and Esme dropped me off at my house. At _our_ house. I walked in, making sure to lock the door behind me.

His coat still hung on the small coat rack near the door. Right below that, his farm shoes, caked with mud, waiting to be worn. Waiting just like me.

I missed him. Just the mere thought of him out there alone brought tears to my eyes. The thought of me having to go on in life without the one person I truly loved brought even more tears.

I kept a place set for him at the kitchen table – the setting never moved or changed. Then there was the bed. The bed that felt so empty, so cold, without him in it.

The next morning, Carlisle showed up at my door before the sun came up. But it wasn't like I was missing out on any sleep.

"Good morning, Isabella. I hope that you slept well. Today seems like it is going to be busy at the hospital, well perhaps just for you." He nodded in my general direction.

One thing that I had come to learn about Cullen men...gentlemen rather was that they were extremely well mannered.

"Sleep is a luxury that I can no longer afford," I stated simply.

He closed the distance between us, and pulled me into a hug. I closed my eyes just briefly and found myself imagining that Edward was the one holding me, comforting me, and not his father.

"I can imagine. I don't believe my wife has slept the entire night since before-"

"Neither have I. I just wish we knew something. I don't want to assume the worst, but that's looking like reality." I sobbed.

He didn't answer; he just pulled me closer to his chest.

"Is that wrong of me? To be thinking that... he... he isn't coming back?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. _Dead. Not alive. Passed away. Drown. Shot. Even blew up._

They were all so final. They were all damning me to a life without Edward, if they were true.

"Not at all. But we haven't heard anything from anyone that he was stationed with, so let's keep our fingers crossed, shall we?"

I nodded against his chest.

"That's the spirit, my dear. Now we best be on our way. We have a lot of patients to attend to and not a lot of time."

I smiled despite myself. Both Carlisle and Edward took great pride in their work. It didn't matter if it was a little or a lot that needed to be done; both father and son gave one hundred percent of themselves one hundred percent of the time.

The ride to St. Martha's General Hospital was a quiet one. I know I should have been asking questions about my responsibilities and what to expect, but I was too busy attempting to gain control of my emotions.

It was a decent hospital for a small town, but Carlisle took great pride in the place. After all, he was the Chief of Surgery. In simpleton's words, he was the man that ran this place. From all outward appearances, he had it running like a well-oiled machine. A machine that now boosted a new cog by the name of Bella Cullen, possible World War 2 widow.

_Don't think like that, Bella. You don't know for sure._

"That's the hospital." Carlisle concluded the quick tour before giving me my instructions.

Apparently, I would be working in the rehab wing. Other than who m I was ordered to report to, I knew nothing about my responsibilities or rehabbing patients for that matter.

_A running theme in my life._

Dr. Denali was an older gentleman. He had salt and pepper hair and spoke with a hint of a Southern drawl.

"Dr. Denali?" I made my presence known.

"Isabella Cullen?" He extended his hand. "It's nice to make your acquaintance. You're mainly going to be assisting the nurses and myself in the rehab of the patients. Also, you will be in charge of filing paper work concerning the patients and their details."

I swallowed hard. Carlisle said _help out_ and _volunteer_ but _not_ being in charge of anything.

_Could I do this?_

The louder voice in my head screamed 'no' but there was a smaller, more confident voice in the background. A voice that I hadn't heard clearly in months chanting 'yes.'

It was Edward's voice.

I had been here for just under an hour and I had already felt calmer than I had in weeks, possibly months.

Maybe I could do this. Maybe this was a good thing.

I spent the entire day as Dr. Denali's living, breathing shadow. Anywhere he went, I went.

It didn't seem like it would be a hard job, it just seemed...tedious. Tedious with a _lot_ of running back and forth.

But it kept me distracted, even just for a few minutes at a time.

The sun was setting when Carlisle showed up at the nurse's station.

I saw him, and instantly breathed a sigh of relief. Home was just a short ride away. My bed was just a short walk away after that.

"Are you finished up here, Isabella?" Carlisle asked as I walked behind the oak desk.

"Just a moment or two more. I need to file this patient's information and then I will be ready."

I hurriedly threw the paper work into the cabinet and grabbed my coat and purse.

"Esme has dinner ready, if you would like to join us tonight?" He offered his arm.

"Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea. Though, are you sure Mrs. Cullen won't mind?"

He held back a chuckle."Isabella, how many times must Emse and I ask of you to refer to us by our first names?"

I shrugged and bit my lip. No matter how many times they wanted me to address them by their first names; it just felt odd to me. Odder now that Edward wasn't around to physically link me to the Cullens.

I fell into a comfortable work routine. Get up. Get dressed. Wait for Mr. Cullen ...erm... Carlisle to arrive. Make my rounds about every thirty minutes. File paperwork in between rounds. Eat lunch, which is usually brought by Carlisle.

After lunch make more rounds, followed by more paper work. Then around seven every evening, Carlisle would meet me at the nurse's station to go home.

Routine. That's what I needed. Still, coming home to an empty house wound my nerves tight. The silence allowed my thoughts to take over. I lost count of the times I watched the attack in my dreams. I would be standing there, helpless and motionless as Edward lay dying in different ways. I could only hope that my dreams weren't trying to tell me what I feared the most.


	2. Chapter 2

**Side Notes: I don't own anything, I wish I did - but alas, I don't. This chapter we start to see what's going on with Edward and also there is a new point of view from someone who will be revealed at a later point in time. But I'd love to hear your guesses.**

**There's one more chapter written and beta'ed. But I do not have a permeant beta for this story and my other, so if you're interested - lemme know. **

**Also, thanks to all who have favorited this story thus far. **

Chapter II – Trapped {{EPOV}}

I woke up instantly, regretting my decision to take part in boys' night the previous evening. I had lost ten dollars at poker only to have gained a splitting headache that would accompany me throughout the day.

According to the rumor mill, today, was supposed to be a pretty easy day. Breakfast at seven. Drills following shortly after, leaving us with the remainder of the afternoon to do whatever we wished. My afternoon would be spent watching the guys' poker rematch because I now knew that a full house did not beat four of a kind, but it did beat three of kind.

I made my way to breakfast. The food wasn't as great as my mom's or even Bella's but it was a hundred times better than the heated and reheated slop that was served Mondays through Saturdays. This morning it was oatmeal, blueberry muffins, pancakes and sausage links. I helped myself to a little bit of everything, taking full advantage of the 'help yourself' attitude in the cafeteria.

My stomach rumbled loudly with anticipation. Another great thing about Sundays was that you actually had time to taste your food. There wasn't a commanding officer breathing down your neck or barking orders in your ear about how you should have finished your meal two bites ago. Nope. Because on Sundays, as long as you were at drills by eight in the morning, you had nothing to worry about.

Being away from home, stuck on a naval ship, left a man with plenty of time and space for his thoughts. It never failed, that my thoughts would drift back to Bella. How could they not? She was…is my wife but more than that, she was my best friend, my other half and the woman of my dreams. All I wanted to do, since stepping aboard this ship, was step back off and run home to her. Run…Swim…Whatever would get me to her. I just had to be with her. She was my calm in the storm.

Planes were buzzing overhead when I reported topside for drills. I secretly hoped that at least one of the smaller planes was a mail plane carrying a letter for me. However, the more I watched the planes, the more I realized that there was something slightly off about them. Something that I should have realized at least a second sooner.

They weren't mail planes.  
They weren't American planes.  
They weren't even Allied Forces planes.

They were Japanese planes.

We are royally fucked.

Japanese planes in a restricted United States air space only meant one thing – serious trouble. As if to my theory, an explosion went off no less than twenty feet from where I was standing.

I threw myself behind a nearby pillar for cover as quickly as I could. I laid face down, my hands and arms crossed tightly over my head, waiting for the next explosion. It came. A loud, eardrum-rattling boom followed by the hull of the ship vibrating with aftershocks.

A few of the guys managed to crawl to gunning stations and fire machine guns at the low flying planes. There was a new sound amongst the explosions: the high-pitched whistle of diving planes, which only meant one thing – the Japs had turned this into a suicide mission.

"Those fucking crazy ass bastards!" I heard one of the commanding officers bellow before he unloaded a sleeve of bullets into the passing planes.

Planes were constantly zooming wildly above, some seemingly mere feet above our heads.

Then there was the smoke. Thick, black, dense smoke. The ship shook violently and I felt my body fly into the air before landing in the water. Before I completely lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was my ship on fire and debris falling and floating around me. 

When I came to, I didn't know where I was or even how I got there. There were bright lights shinning overhead and I couldn't help but wonder if this was the bright light. For all I knew, I was free floating somewhere between heaven and hell. The pain that shot through my body was the only thing that told me that I was alive. I just didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

The people that came in and out of my room kept calling me by the name of Edward, almost like it was supposed to mean something. But what?

I was trapped in every sense of the word. Trapped in a room with a single window, in a bed attached to machines. Trapped in someplace where I didn't know anything. Trapped in a body that felt strange to me.

Trapped. Trapped. Trapped.

Time passed sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. My days were blending into weeks and those weeks had turned into a month. I had been lying in this room for a month with no sign of being able to return home – wherever that was.

I had nothing but time on my hands. Time to sit and think. The more I thought, the more I realized that there were parts missing. My story had several pages, if not chapters, that were completely blank and it was up to me to piece them together again.

Nurses flitted in and out of my room, checking my vitals, adjusting my pillows and generally annoying me. I wanted so badly to yell at them and beg them to leave me alone, but I couldn't. I understood that they had a job to do and didn't mean anything by their intrusiveness.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Cullen?" a red headed nurse asked, as she shoved the curtains back, allowing sunlight to fill the room.

I stared at her, finding her mildly attractive, with the exception of the fire engine color hair that adorned her head.

"Excuse me?" I answered, hoping that she would take note of my confusion.

"How are you today?" she repeated, stepping closer.

I took one whiff of the air around her only to find it thick with cheap perfume and something resembling smoke. My stomach churned in response to the revolting smell.

"I'm good but who is this Mr. Cullen everyone keeps referring to?" I asked in reply.

I saw her face fall, even though she was trying to hide it from me.

"You don't know who you are, do you?" she asked.

I shook my head.

My denial caused the conversation to end quickly. She walked out of my room, visibly shaken by whatever revelation she had just discovered. I let my gaze fall on the window where birds were flying and diving outside. My eyes closed, but my mind's eye saw planes falling in a similar fashion as the birds outside my window.

Was the reason why I was here have something to do with planes? And why does the smell of smoke suddenly turn my stomach?

I pushed the thought from my mind and welcomed the calm that sleep gave me. Instead of a dreamless state I dreamt of planes and a mysterious brunette who seemed just out of reach and who I seemed to be drawn to like a moth to the flame.

The next morning it was the same; nurses filtered in and out of my room. On occasion, I would be stuck with a needle by a nurse with a cheesy grin plastered across her face. I wanted to scream and tell everything wouldn't be okay and that I wasn't anyone's sweetheart

Yeah, it was so easy to have a grin on your face when you're not the one being turned into a human pincushion.

I was so angry at the world, and everyone in it. I blamed them for my being here. For my cluelessness as to who I was. For everything.

I just wanted to be at home, sleeping in my own bed, wearing my own clothes, eating my own food. Where ever home might be.

"Hello, Mr. Cullen, my name is Dr. Aro and I will be overseeing your rehabilitation and your therapy," a gentleman began speaking the minute he walked through the door frame of my room.

I thought it was rather odd that one doctor would be overseeing my complete care but logically it made sense. I had always heard going to different doctors for different things even if they thought those things were related. Everyone always said that doctors had specialties, so why wasn't Dr. Aro one of them? I wasn't about to argue; after all, he was the one with the medical degree – not me.

He approached my bed with an outstretched hand. I guess he wanted me to shake it, but I didn't feel comfortable introducing myself as someone I didn't even know.

"Hello," I responded with a quick nod.

That's all this sucker's getting from me.

Dr. Aro continued on as though my behavior wasn't out of the ordinary. He prattled on about diagnoses and treatments, occasionally throwing in some medical – doctor-jibber jabber that I didn't understand. It was something about post- traumatic something or other, apparently it was very common in people like me.

People like me, what is that supposed to mean?

The doctor left just as quickly as he had arrived, once again leaving me alone with my thoughts. Yet once again, they drifted back to the girl with the brunette hair.

Who was she? Would I even be able to find her?

Working at a field hospital had it's advantages. Most of the time they were few and far between but for me, today was a benefit. He came in via helicopter from somewhere, no one really knew. All we knew was that he survived Pearl Harbor by some miracle. Apparently, an explosion had thrown him from his ship into the burning water only to have a piece of the ship come crashing down on his right side. One thing was for sure, even behind all the wounds, dirt and grease - he was breath taking. I knew it was against policy to flirt or fraternize with patients, but looking at him, it would be so easy.

"This is Petty Officer First Class Edward Cullen," the doctor began the run down of trauma and injuries but I drowned him out with visions of myself wrapped in the toned and tanned arms of my new patient.

"Did you hear what he said, did you?" Lauren squealed.

I shook my head at my over eager friend and co-worker.

"You're in charge of his care until we get the rehab specialist from state side."

I could tell it was taking all of her energy not to bounce up and down in place.

"And when would this specialist be coming?"

"In about a month at the earliest. Or at least that's the assumption."

I had a month to figure out who this handsome man was, where he had come from, and ultimately how I could make him mine. Because I always got what I want and right now, and I wanted him. Badly.

I was in charge of his care therefore I made sure he got the best of everything which meant a single room with a view. After taking a few moments to readjust his blankets and fluff his already fluffy pillow, I reviewed his chart. Whatever information it held would be helpful as both his nurse and romantic pursuer.

He had been floating in and out of conscienceness since the attack, so the previous doctor had supsicions of brain trauma. However, no one could tell how serve it actually was. I couldn't help the twisted smile that graced my lips when I read about the potiental memory loss and that he was married; all I wanted was for the memory of his wife to be gone. Forgotten.

And I would be more than happy to step in and fill the role. After I finished reading his chart, I placed it back on the metal bars at the end of the bed and waited for him to wake up.

When he did, slightly groggy and confusion he mumbled one word that gave me my first clue to who he was.

"Bella?"

**Let me know what you thought?**


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